Café is a safe haven for Syrian asylum seekers

North York café has employed 30 refugees since opening three months ago.

When a sniper's bullet zinged dangerously close to Silva Poshoghlian Ketenjian and her husband, lodging in the couple's TV set, they knew they had to leave Syria. Then their neighbour was kidnapped and killed.

"We came with what was basically on our backs," says Poshoghlian.

The couple went to Lebanon thinking they could wait it out and return when the fighting had stopped. But it didn't.

Poshoghlian, her husband, son and daughter found themselves waiting in Lebanon for three years, until an anonymous sponsor at St. Mary's Armenian Church in North York facilitated their immigration to Canada.

Canada turned down the application of Poshoghlian's daughter and her spouse, a Syrian-Armenian with Lebanese roots and citizenship, because they weren't considered refugees by the UNHCR. Those two remain in Lebanon, without work and, Poshoghlian worries, without a future.

Poshoghlian, meanwhile, has found work near the church at Jack Boyadjian's Beiruti Grand Café, which has recently become a haven for many newly arrived Syrians.

Located in a bustling strip mall at Sheppard and Hwy 401, the café serves made-to-order salads, sandwiches, Lebanese favourites like manakeesh (an in-house baked cheese and za'atar flatbread), pastries and good coffee. Plans to expand the sleek space to include a sit-down restaurant are under way, as well as the opening of five more locations throughout the GTA.

This means that apart from the approximately 30 Syrian refugees Boyadjian has employed since opening the café three months ago, he'll need more reliable hands on deck soon.

On a personal level, he says he knows what the recent arrivals are going through. He left Lebanon because of the war there 28 years ago. "I suffered a lot and feel I have the obligation to help the newcomers to the maximum," he says.

In practical terms, there's a shortage of food service industry professionals in the Toronto area, a gap being filled by newly arrived "workaholics." Some work only a week at the café before securing employment in their field or going back to school for Canadian accreditation. "These are for the most part very well-educated people," says Boyadjian. Others stay for longer stretches.

Poshoghlian and her newly minted colleague Sevan Mawilian Dishoian have been working at the café for two months, and both are likely to stay for the long haul. The women work in the on-site bakery, a welcome, albeit considerable, career shift. Poshoghlian was a homemaker who watched neighbourhood children in her Aleppo apartment, Mawilian a private school elementary teacher with 23 years' experience.

Prior to this job, where she makes everything from breads and pastries to labneh (a soft Middle Eastern cheese), Mawilian worked at an Armenian summer camp in the GTA. Once that was over, she asked around regarding who might need a reliable worker. "Mr. Jack was hiring," she says, "so I started right away."

The language, new way of life and even basics like knowing where to buy food and using public transportation were all initially daunting for both women. "It's going to take at least one year to feel adjusted," says Mawilian, who lives with her husband and two teenaged daughters nearby. She speaks conversational English and attends English classes from 7 to 9 pm after her day at the café. Poshoghlian finds the tongue of her adopted country a riddle but insists she will learn it, too.

When asked if they would go back if the war ends in Syria, both smile sadly and shake their heads.

For Mawilian, having the school she taught at repeatedly bombed, going without running water for months, enduring electrical blackouts and long periods without a scrap of food are not things she will miss.

"My daughters are going to grow up here and establish themselves here. Something fundamental has changed drastically in Syria, something is broken," she says.

Her new friend Poshoghlian adds, "If I go back to Syria, I would be a stranger there. My neighbours, my friends, they're not there any more. No, I have to start anew. What remains are memories."

Boyadjian wants his staff to feel like they're home, like they can put down roots. Mawilian has found not just a home, but also a family and a sympathetic ear. When she's feeling down, chef Pierre playfully offers her mayo-loaded sandwiches, a weakness of hers. The words "Do you need some mayo?" never fail to lighten her mood.

Says Boyadjian, "I try not to have that conversation with them about why they left. They start remembering, and it takes me back 30 years. They never thought this would happen to them. I keep telling them, Canada is a country where we're not going to see a war here. Our grandchildren will not see a war here. People have respect here."

Mawilian hopes to earn an accounting diploma to help her new boss with his expanding café business.

"Here, I don't feel like a stranger or a foreigner. When I make pastries and people like them, I feel ownership over my work. If Mr. Jack needs an accountant, he can hire me," she says.

As for Poshoghlian, she says she's happy to be working at the café, which has filled her days with structure, purpose and a sense of community.

"I hope this place continues to be prosperous so we can remain here. In Arabic we wish well in terms of prayers. 'May God give him [Mr. Jack] prosperity.' We say, 'Allah ywaff'o,'" she says, smiling.

Colombian-born Mary Luz Mejia is a freelance journalist whose work has been published in the Toronto Star, Globe and Mail and Toronto Life.